Resurrection
by darksupernatural
Summary: Sam made it out of the pit, and back to Dean. But he is far from okay and something is after him. When he runs Dean follows. Can Dean protect his brother from something he can't touch? Please read note in chapter 1.
1. Chapter 1

** ***PLEASE READ THIS*****

**I know I've been gone for a while and I'm sorry to those who really enjoy my stuff but something has come my way I'm having a really difficult time dealing with. I need to do some stuff and one thing is to sell my 1967 Chevy Impala. It has to go and I would rather give someone out there the chance to buy it rather than pack it up to sell to someone who will butcher it into a drag car or sell it for scrap. PLEASE, it's very important that it sells quickly. If someone out there is seriously considering it email me directly and I will send you pictures and details. I will even explain why I have to part with her. So Please, if you are a car enthusiast, a serious fan, or a little of both or know someone who is, let me know!**

**Anyway, I didn't want to post this until it was done, but I didn't think it was right to come back from such a long hiatus just to post a note and something dumb to pass as a chapter. I am NOT finished writing this and I don't know when I will be able to. Like I said above, I feel like I've had a bomb fall on me and I'm just trying to cope. As soon as the words come I will finish this. Right now though, I have no idea when or even where this is going. I just hope you'll enjoy the read. This is post s5-start of s6 and probably will leave you with as many questions as the last five minutes of _Swan Song._**

**_***Thanks for reading***  
_**

**Resurrection**

"Dean? You okay?"

I nod my head and put the glass of whiskey to my lips to keep from screaming. Around the burn I say "I'm good" just to force myself not to cry, cuss or swallow a bullet. I don't know what made me come here…to decide to play house.

Scratch that. I do know. Sammy. That freakin' promise that I can't bring myself to break. Not because I don't want my baby brother back by my side. No, every damn fiber of my body is _screamin' _for me to burn the tires off the car on the way back to that cemetery outside Lawrence, throw myself on the mercy of whatever…demon…angel….a broken iron fence…whatever the fuck it would take to get Sammy out of that hole. Out of the inner circle of hell. I cringe…my tour of duty, fuckin' cakewalk compared to what I KNOW my brother is goin' through and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. To keep from reaching for the gun digging into the small of my back I reach instead to the basket in the middle of the table and toss Ben a roll, snag another for myself and pretend it doesn't taste like nothing but the sulfur I can remember from the pit, the only thing I know Sammy is tasting as Lucifer rams his hand down Sam's throat and tears his heart out repeatedly. A tear rolls down my cheek and I glance out the side window to keep Lisa from seeing as she walks up to the table and sits at my side.

*Supernatural*

It's fiery hot one moment, freezing cold the next. Depends on who's got control. I almost pray for the heat, 'cos at least then I know Michael is at the wheel. Lucifer, when he was in Chicago, he was right. He burns so freakin' cold. It's enough to put frost in my veins when he's crawling around in my skin. Michael melts the ice and turns me to ash while he laughs. I guess it's funny. An angel trapped in hell with Lucifer and his human vessel. Thank god Adam's not here. I guess his soul went somewhere else. I couldn't watch my baby brother being ripped apart. That would be the one thing to break me for sure.

I guess that's how Dean feels too. I think about him and to break me that much more, Michael shows me glimpses of him. He went to Lisa, that I'm grateful for. But I see him, cheek wet as he turns away from her, fingers curling in the natural position they would assume if they were around the butt of his gun.

I'm cold now, but not the freezing cold of Lucifer's touch on my soul, on my guts. It's more the cold of being outside looking in and I feel a stab of pain in my head as the streetlight above me flares brightly before it winks out with a spark. I'm watching through a clear glass pane, my feet on concrete, hurting like they would after _hours_ of standing in one place, as my brother tosses another roll to the dark haired boy with his back to me. My eyes are glued to Dean's face, the pain there, the crushed look making my heart jump and suddenly there's pain. I double over and stagger slightly, losing my balance. Metal clangs loud in the night as I hit the three trash cans lined up on the sidewalk. I crash to the ground, the sidewalk clipping my cheekbone and as I finally realize I'm out… "I'm out," darkness closes in, "De-"

*Supernatural*

"What the.." Dean stood from the chair with a start as the banging of metal carried on the night even through the closed dining room window. Gun automatically in hand, before he realized it, he strode toward the door, Ben looked on with curiosity and Lisa with trepidation. She stood from the table too, looking at her son.

"Ben, stay here." She chided and followed Dean.

"No Lis…take Ben and go upstairs."

Dean opened the door from the side, shielded from the view of whatever's outside. He stepped out slowly, moving off the porch and cautiously approached the overturned trash cans, the galvanized steel lid to one still rocking slightly on it's handle. He looked over top the middle can, starting slightly when Lisa touched his arm.

"Told you to stay inside." Dean whispered gruffly.

"No." Lisa returned. Dean's eyes fell on a brown boot, the detail of the shoe striking a chord deep within him. They were _Caterpillar_. High top pull on work boots, achingly familiar. The tops of the boots disappeared beneath the frayed out hems of well worn jeans that loosely hugged long legs. The jeans had a worn spot right beneath the right knee, a long seam of material worn to the soft white cross strings, and another above the left, the small circle of frayed denim striking another memory in Dean and ratcheting up his heartbeat another notch.

The figure on the ground was slumped at mid waist, his torso twisted awkwardly between the cans, face against the rough concrete, turned away from Dean. A denim jacket hugged broad shoulders and Dean watched the back rise and fall for a shallow breath pulled in and expelled before he walked around the end of the cans, his hammering heart demanding to know if this was…

*Supernatural*

My heart is choking me, clawing its hammering way up my throat and cutting off my air. I see, _oh god please let me be seeing something real,_ I think it's really him. Maybe I'm cracking the fuck up _finally_. I don't know. God, let it be him. Every contour of his arms, his legs, right down to the way he's sprawled out, all height and drawn-out and tangled up and small at once. It all rings _Sammy_ like Cathedral bells.

Denim jacket, white shirt, worn jeans and his leather boots, and an expression filled with hate one minute, recognition and love the next, and strength beyond anything I've ever seen in the next blink. I know every stitch of my brother's clothing, every line of his body, the position of every strand of his hair the last time I saw him. It's burned into my mind and I can't conjure any other image. Him, standing there, back to the hole, arms spread wide, as peaceful as he's ever been.

*Supernatural*

I feel nothing, not hot, not cold, just floating…directionless. Tethered by something intangible. I don't know what's keeping me here. I just wanna rest. I feel something, a presence. It's so familiar that my heart aches. I can't open my eyes, can't see what I feel…sense. I wanna wake up. I wanna wake up so bad. I feel my lungs fill, my heart beating, feel the ghost of heat still on my skin, the bumps that come from chills so intense my skin feels like it's going to freeze solid. _God, I just wanna wake up!_

*Supernatural*_  
_

Dean's eyes roamed over the face obscured by long wavy chocolate locks, following the sleeve of a jacket down to where the cuff of a white button down shirt stuck out and he glimpsed just the edge of a black band circling a lean right wrist.

"Lisa, go inside, now. Upstairs with Ben. Lock the door." Dean choked out. Lisa moved around to stand closer to the door of the house, fear in her voice when she spoke.

"Why?"

"It's m'brother." Dean said, a tear falling from his eye to hit the dry concrete two inches to the left of his boot, between Sam's lax fingers.

Lisa gasped and turned, pushing back through the door, leaving it gaping as Dean glanced up in time to watch her legs carry her up the stairs quickly. Dean brushed Sam's hair back from his closed eyes, taking in the lines of fatigue and pain, along with purple smudges that lay in circles beneath his lashes like bruises. Dean reached behind him and pulled a small, intricate silver blade from his boot, the etched silver glinting in the moonlight and that's when he belatedly realized the streetlight was dark. He cautiously pushed up the jacket sleeve and the cuff beneath it to expose smooth flesh.

Dean raked the sharp blade across Sam's arm. Blood welled from the shallow cut, but Sam didn't flinch, the skin didn't sizzle or discolor. Dean breathed.

He pulled a small hip flask from his pocket and opened the lid, the pungent smell assaulting his nostrils. He tipped the bottle over his fingertip and spilled a drop of the holy oil, holy water and salt mixture,_ the tell all for anything_, before slowly, cautiously reaching out, disguising the test as brushing a wayward lock of hair from Sam's forehead.

Dean sobbed once, slamming the back of his hand against his mouth until he tasted blood on his tongue and the scent of the oil filled his sinuses. "Sammy." The nickname came out muffled and choked. Dean fell to his knees, the cold concrete touching skin through the holes in his own jeans going completely ignored. He gripped Sam by the lapels of his jacket and hefted him, quickly steadying the lolling head against his own shoulder as he buried shaking fingers in his baby brother's hair, feeling the dampness of the dew that had accumulated since he found his brother. Dean tucked his face against Sam's head before he spoke. "I'm here. I gotcha now."

He rocked Sam slightly, glancing up as he heard soft footsteps, not lifting his chin from Sam's hair, just tightening his arms, daring anyone to take Sam from him. Lisa appeared, crouching at Sam's feet. She looked at Dean, the moonlight catching paths of wetness glistening on his cheeks, his freckles standing out across the bridge of his nose.

"Is he…?"

"It's really him, Lis. I dunno how, but it's really him. I g-" Dean choked off, arms reflexively tightening, "got him back."

"Let's get him inside."

Dean moved, pulling Sam with him as he crouched on the balls of his feet.

"Let me help."

"I got 'im."

"Dean." was all Lisa said as she gripped Sam's legs just beneath the crooks of his knees and lifted. She steered Sam's legs up to the door and held both legs in the bend of her arm as she used the other hand to open the door. Dean glanced her way.

"Single mom." Lisa said with a small grin. Dean pulled Sam higher against his chest and walked through the door, kicking it shut behind him. They carried Sam down the hall to the small guest room and placed him on the bed. Lisa left the room and Dean sat on the edge of the bed, one hand tucked against his mouth, the other reaching out to touch his brother, feeling a strong beat beneath his fingers. He lifted the shaking digits and brushed them back across Sam's forehead, smearing away the oil residue. Dean looked more closely at his brother's face, running a thumb gently just over Sam's right eyebrow, feeling smooth skin where Dean himself knew a scar had been. Dean leaned closer and pushed Sam's hair away from his left ear, running a thumb behind the lobe to where he knew a wendigo had slashed at Sam ten years ago. Again, no scar, just smooth, tan flesh.

Lisa returned to the room nearly silently, only her shadow looming over Sam betraying her as her form blocked the light from the hall. Dean's eyes remained on his brother, his body tense and relaxed all at once. She lowered a hand over Dean's shoulder and his eyes shifted to take in the damp washcloth dangling from her fingers, already folded to be of the best use. He heard plastic slide over wood and saw, in his peripheral vision, a white plastic case with a red cross on it laying on the nightstand beside the bed.

"If you need anything else…"

"Thanks Lis." Dean said, stroking the washcloth over Sam's pale features, wiping smudges of dirt from Sam's face. Dean's eyes roamed over his little brother's features for what seemed to be the millionth time, marveling that he had his brother back.

*Supernatural*

I see him layin' there, eyes closed, lookin' all peaceful and I know that it's about the furthest thing from the truth as I wipe the grime from his face, wondering bemusedly if he got it from face planting in the trashcans or if it was some residue of hell still clinging to him. I watch as his eyes dart back and forth beneath his lids, wondering just what horrors are goin' on behind closed doors. _How much had he gone through? How twisted _is _he? I know just how the hell broken _I _was and my tour of duty was friggin' cake. Can I save him?_

I shake my head, feeling my eyes sting and seeing his face blur and for a split second my heart thumps hard 'cos I think he's gonna disappear like a mirage. I blink and he's still there. I drag the cloth softly over his face again, feeling the terry snag on the shadow of stubble that's lurking on his chin. I have to wonder at that…how many days has he been out?

*Supernatural*

I feel something, far away, rubbing over my face and neck. It doesn't burn like the acid Lucifer stroked over me before he peeled blistering flesh from my bones only to snap his fingers and put me back to do it all over again. Fear blankets me and I feel the heat of hellfire course through me, it's burning me and freezing me all over again and I feel my heart clench- stutter- and start to hammer in my chest. I feel myself go rigid, muscles locking as darkness pulls me under.

*Supernatural*

"Sam? Sammy!" Dean cried, watching as his brother went rigid on the bed, his breath choking off in his throat in a coarse whimper. Dean slid further onto the bed and pulled Sam up into his arms, feeling heat blazing off his brother like he was physically on fire. Sam groaned and went limp in Dean's arms, chill bumps making his skin feel like Braille writing. "Don't you give up on me. You hear me Sammy? I just found you damnit, no way I'm losin' you now."

*Supernatural*

"Dean?" The oldest Winchester spun on the bed still holding Sam against him, and took in the young boy that looked on so concerned, and just slightly curious. He couldn't snap at the kid. Ben took another cautious step into the room, looking scared, like he knew he was doing something wrong. Dean smiled slightly and Ben returned the smile, walking to the bedside unabashedly. "Is he okay?" The youngster asked, looking at Sam clutched in Dean's arms. Dean laid Sam back against the pillow again, pulling Ben up against his side. "Yeah, buddy. He'll be okay."

"He's your brother? He was there when I was in the cage. It's Sam, right? Not something else?"

"No. He's not something else." Dean looked into Ben's dark eyes. "He's just Sammy. And I'm gonna make sure he's okay." Ben reached out a hand and patted Sam on the shoulder.

"Don't worry Sam. Dean's good. He'll look after you like he does me and mom." The eleven year old turned to Dean. "I'm glad you came to stay with me and mom." Ben locked his arms quickly around Dean's neck before he pulled away, patted Sam's arm again and ran from the room. Dean huffed a laugh and leaned forward, putting his hand on the spot on Sam's arm where Ben's had been. The flesh there was warm.

"Y'know, that kid's pretty smart. You should listen t'him." Dean sighed and leaned forward further, brushing the fingers of his other hand through Sam's hair. "I told you five days ago that I was here for you…that I wasn't gonna leave. I mean that Sammy. I am NOT goin' anywhere. I'm here, I swear. You just take your time, and come back to me. I will be right here."

Dean's cell phone rang, startling him from his reverie as he watched his brother sleeping. He reached for the device, recognizing the number that flashed across the screen.

"What do you want?" Dean said gruffly.

"_Dean, your friend Bobby is in over his head on a hunt." _

"What the hell are you talkin' about Cass?"

"_He's hunting a very dangerous being. One responsible for trying to further the effects of the averted apocalypse. It showed up outside Lawrence late yesterday evening."_

"That was when…" Dean bit off what he had to say.

"What? Dean?" Castiel urged.

"Come to Cicero." Dean lowered his phone as the flutter of wings stirred the drapes at the window, turning to see the trench coated, blue eyed angel. The man stared at the figure on the bed, slightly agape.

"Sam?"

"Found 'im outside about three hours ago. He's been unconscious since then. I don't know how…but he's back." Dean smiled at the angel, eyes misting over as he looked back at his brother.

"Dean. This is serious. If the being that Bobby is hunting is involved in bringing Sam back…"

"I don't give a damn if the Easter Bunny brought him back, he's back and I'm not pokin' the bear in the ass with a stick. I'm hangin' on to him for dear life, an' that's all there is to it."

"If Bobby crosses paths with this being…" Dean interrupted him again, whirling to face the angel, standing from the bed, his boots scraping across the wood floor.

"I'll talk to Bobby. I don't wanna even see this thing if it involves Sammy in _any _way."

Sam's head rolled on the pillow, his eyes scrunching tight but remaining closed. He groaned, the sound turning into a pained, puppy like whimper. Dean turned his attention back to his brother, ignoring the angel and smoothing a hand through Sam's hair. "Hey, hey, shh. 's alright Sammy."

Dean heard the sound of the angel's wings, a brief stirring of air and he knew that Castiel had left him. Dean rubbed a thumb over Sam's eyebrow and the lines around his mouth and eyes smoothed out. The oldest Winchester pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed his old friend's number, a number he thought it was going to be a long time before he ever dialed again.

"_This is Singer. Leave a message."_

"Bobby, it's Dean. Call me. NOW!" Dean slammed his phone shut, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"What is it Dean?" Lisa asked, coming into the room.

"I gotta get in touch with a friend. He's in trouble."

"But…your brother?"

"I'm not leavin'. I'll be right back." Dean stood, squeezing Sam's arm before he turned from the bed, striding out the door of the room.

Dean walked quickly to the car, pulling his phone again. He dialed Bobby's number. Again it went to voice mail. "Damnit! Bobby, call me. I've got something important…look, drop this hunt. You hear me? I just talked to Cass. The thing you're hunting…it's one bad mother. Just come to Cicero as soon as you can."

*Supernatural*

I pocket my phone and lean against the Impala for a minute, breathing deep as I look up at the clear night sky, the stars winking happily down at me. I sigh before pushing away from the chilly metal and opening the trunk, reaching in for the duffle bag that belongs to m'little brother, something I thought I would never be able to look at again. The bag, worn army green canvas with frayed straps, held the majority of Sammy's worldly possessions, packed the same way for so long that the cherished hard back original copy of _War and Peace, _a book that I had saved money for months to get him for his eleventh birthday, had worn boxy looking lines in the material. Sam had devoured it in less than two weeks and had never allowed it to be "lost" in their many, many moves, or shoved aside for another weapon. Then it hit me, it was one of the only things to survive the fire in Palo Alto, besides the clothes on Sammy's back.

*Supernatural*

"And the rest of our crazy-ass lives." Dean mused under his breath, feeling the corners of the heavy book beneath well worn creases in the canvas of the duffle. Dean hefted the bag and moved to shut the trunk lid, glancing at the house. His fingers were pinched harshly when he abruptly stopped the trunk lid from closing, flinging it back up, dropping the bag back in and grabbing for the shotgun that rested just under the edge of the divider when his eyes took in the flickering lights from every room in the house. He pocketed a bunch of shells and chambered two. He sprinted for the front door, shoving through the heavy wooden panel, the flickering lights momentarily blinding him.

"Sammy! LISA!" Dean called, hearing nothing but the static crackle of electricity in the light fixtures. Dean flinched as light bulbs began exploding in every fixture in the house.

"Dean, what's goin' on?" a sleepy- eyed Ben appeared at the top of the stairs, quickly waking up as the lights at the top of the stairs flickered and popped.

"Go back to your room Ben! Lock the door and stay away from glass!" The eleven year old ran back down the hall.

Dean turned, panning the gun over the lower floor of the house as he made his way towards the room where his brother lay. "Sammy? Lisa?" Dean called cautiously.

"Dean!" Lisa called out, the cry choked off abruptly. Dean shouldered his way into the darkened room, boots crunching over the fragile glass of busted light bulbs. Lisa was facing him, petrified, a long, corded arm wrapped tightly around her neck, clutched at the wrist by a white knuckled hand. Lisa's hands scrabbled at the arm around her neck, trying to loosen the grip.

"Sammy! What the hell are you doin'?"

Wild eyed Sam ignored the question, arm reflexively tightening as the tone scared him. His eyes darted around the room, not seeing anything, not seeing his brother. Sam's panicked breathing crashed in Dean's ears like waves on the beach. Dean lowered the shotgun just slightly, locking eyes on his brother's face.

"Sammy? C'mon, dude, let Lisa go." Receiving no response, Dean moved closer, one hand raised pleadingly, the gun lowering another notch. Sam's arms tightened reflexively.

"Christo." Sam didn't flinch, only pulled Lisa closer. She gasped as Sam's arm tightened against her throat.

"C'mon Sammy. Don't do this. I don't know what's goin' on in your head but I wanna help. Please let me help."

Sam's darting eyes finally landed on Dean's face, seeming to focus slightly. The teal orbs welled with moisture before Sam shoved Lisa away from him and into Dean's arms, before bolting from the room. Dean heard the front door slam. The oldest Winchester reflexively wrapped Lisa in a one armed hug before releasing her and running after Sam.

"Dean wait!" Lisa called, her voice breaking as she caught her breath. "It's not you he's scared of!"

**I'll post Chapter 2 as soon as I have something. And a special thanks goes out to Vonnie836, Sammygirl1963 and as always, my beloved sis, Gill. I know you're all hundreds of miles away from me, but in this crazy difficult time your support for me and my husband makes me feel like you're right next to me, bumping shoulders and sharing tears. THANK YOU.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Have you ever taken a leap of faith? One that's not necessarily faith maybe, but more of a stubborn determination to do whatever it takes to do something? To live one day at a time, still have what you need and just a small bit of what you want, no matter how hard it is or how taxing it is physically, mentally and emotionally to get it and keep it? I bet that raises some questions. Like WTF is she talking about and what's going on.**

**Chapter 2**

My heart's hammering in my chest, threatening to burst from between my ribs. My body's shaking, fear streaking through my blood, my soul. I have to run, there's something making me run. It was where I was when I woke up, could feel it watchin' me.

I sob, my legs turning to warm rubber, something roughly the consistency of used chewing gum, and I slump against the nearest surface, a cement block wall, rough against my skin. "'m sor'. Didn't-didn't mean to…"

***Supernatural***

"_SAAAMMMMMYYYYYYY!" _Sam pulled in a quick breath and chanced a look behind him, feeling the short hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He felt a stabbing pain lance through his head and he turned, running towards the darkness away from the streetlights that were beginning to burn hotter and brighter.

Sam's legs carried him further away from his brother, further away from the thing that had him so scared, something he didn't know what it was. But he knew it was dangerous. And it wanted him. He finally stumbled and went down hard in the alley. His hand stung, bits of gravel and debris slashing his palm even as pain from his wrenched wrist traveled up his arm to make his breath leave him in a _whoosh. _The electric crackle and pop of glass made him jump.

***Supernatural***

I run after my brother, searching the darkness as we get further away from Lisa's, further away from safety and into the pitch. Sammy's runnin' blind. I can see that. And he's _freaked._ "SAAAMMMMMYYYYY!"

I disappear down the alley into the darkness behind him, shotgun raised ready to fight off whatever has him so scared, like the big brother I am. Gotta do my job. I can hear his pounding footsteps, his stuttering breath. I begin to hear something else, an electric buzzing. The shadows in front of me grow as the light behind me gets brighter, before they abruptly go black as the streetlights shatter.

***Supernatural***

"NO!" Sam cried from the darkness.

"Sam!" Dean responded, fear working through him like flashes of lightning at Sam's cry.

"Stay away from me!"

"Sammy!"

A bright light blossomed in the corner of the alley, blue white. Dean blinked away the temporary blindness, seeing his brother standing with his back tight to the alley wall. Fear streaked through him when he realized that the ball of light was getting closer to Sam. Dean unloaded both barrels into the light, cracking the breech to reload hurriedly when it didn't even flinch. Sam pushed away from the light, terror evident on his face as his eyes remained glued to the light, his pupils barely visible. "Sam? Stay put. I'm gonna do…something." Dean said, lifting the salt gun again. He squeezed the trigger slowly, making sure that Sam would not be sprayed with the coarse granules as the light moved closer, the form within seeming to reach for Sam, brighter tendrils of light resembling thick arms reaching for Sam's shoulders. Dean fired the gun, the light shifting, turning before the salt made contact. A burst of light, heat and propelled air like a gale force desert wind slammed into Dean, knocking him backwards into the wall. He slumped to the litter strewn ground, his vision going from white to black as he heard Sam scream, sheer agony resonating through the alley and dissipating into the darkness beyond.

***Supernatural***

It reaches for me and I feel pulled toward it and repelled at the same time. It steps closer, and I grind my shoulder blades into the cement wall, trying to get away and having nowhere to go. My heart jumps to my throat, hammering its way through my flesh. "NO!" I vaguely hear something in the distance but it's drowned out by the static pulsing of the light. It's like it's talking to me.

"Stay away from me!" Pain lances through my head and I hear a foreign voice, grating on my nerves.

"_Sammy!" _I hear a gun crack and feel the sting of something on my face and arms but the burn is drowned out by agony.

***Supernatural***

Dean's head rolled, grit digging its way through his short hair to gouge at his scalp painfully. "Unngh…" His eyes opened to slits, sunlight piercing his brain. Memories of another blinding light slammed home and he sat up with a gasp, slightly dizzy. "Sammy?" Dean looked around, focusing on the back of the alley, next to the coarse cement block wall where he'd last seen Sam, pinned to the wall by _something_ and _scared out of his mind._

A slumped form rested in the shadows where the morning sun had yet to touch, long legs curled beneath him, hair over his face, turned away from Dean, head seeming to hang loose on his shoulders. Sam's temple rested against the rough wall. Dean sprang to his knees and lurched to his feet crossing the span that separated him from his brother in three steps.

"Sammy?" Dean tucked his fingers beneath Sam's head, lifting it from the wall, eyes roaming over Sam's face and feeling Sam's hair pull away from the rough texture of the block. "Hey, hey, c'mon." Dean's head bobbed in time with Sam's as his hand shifted and Sam's head lolled with it. "Sam, wake up. Talk to me. Sammy!"

Sam jumped, his eyes opening, but not focusing directly on Dean, instead looking over Dean's shoulder, washed out teal looking more gray, like ocean water on an overcast day. Dean put his other hand to Sam's jaw and caught his brother's gaze. "Hey, Sam, c'mon. Focus on me, dude. You alright?"

Sam's eyes welled with moisture, droplets streaking down his pale face to land in his lap, soaking into his worn denim. Dean stroked a finger over Sam's cheek, stopping half of the third pair in it's track. Dean watched as Sam worked at regaining some composure, forcing himself to breathe deep and slow. He swallowed convulsively and his lips began to move. Sam's voice was broken, barely a coarse whisper and Dean leaned close to catch what Sam was saying.

"…ever feel like you left part of you behind? An' know without a shadow of a doubt they pounced on it…an' tore it to shreds."

Dean gulped in a breath and enveloped Sam in his arms, listening as his brother broke down. "'S alright Sammy. You're out. You're safe." Dean crooned, rocking a trembling Sam slightly. "'M right here."

"Hur's. So bad. It hur's." Sam groaned, turning his head into Dean's shoulder.

"What hurts?" Dean asked.

Sam didn't answer, and Dean picked his head up again, seeing how pale his brother's face was, the only color besides gray was the deep purple rings beneath Sam's closed eyes.

"Okay. It's okay. Gonna get ya somewhere safe." Dean looked around the shadowed alley. "Cas!" Dean called softly, wincing inwardly when Sam moaned. "Castiel."

"Dean. We're in close proximity to the being. We have to move. Now!"

"Loosen your tie, Cas." Dean looked up at the angel as his hand automatically went to his already askew tie. Dean smirked. "It was already here. Last night. Knocked my ass out."

"Dean, did it touch Sam?"

"What's that got t'do w…"

"DID. It. Touch. Sam?"

"Yeah. I think so…he screamed. I've never heard him scream like that. Never want to again." Dean murmured.

"We have to move." Castiel crouched and touched both Dean and Sam, who was slumped against his brother. A flutter on the morning breeze and the three were gone.

***Supernatural***

It was like being sucked into a tornado and being on a roller coaster all at once. Only lasted a couple seconds and we were sittin' on a bed. Tacky burgundy and green wallpaper made my churning stomach clench until I looked away, focusing on the tan of a trench coat. "Ugh, I hate it when you do that." I said, rubbing a hand over my stomach before sliding across the narrow distance between the beds to check on his brother. Castiel moved to Sam's feet.

***Supernatural***

"Where did you bring us, anyhow?" Dean asked, looking at the garish wallpaper again.

"Super Six. Still in Cicero. The keys are on the table by the door. You have appropriate…cover, and the Do Not Disturb sign is already on the door."

"Wow. Castiel. Undercover Dick." Dean brushed Sam's hair away from his smudged eyes. "What's wrong with him?"

"Hell was…hard on him." Castiel replied, his words punctuated by an animalistic whimper, one of many that had come from Sam. All heartbreaking sounds that tore into Dean like blades.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. I mean, what the hell is that thing and what'd it do to him?"

"I don't know."

Dean rolled his eyes and fell silent for a moment, glancing out the window of the motel. "Hey, where's my car? I need some stuff for Sammy." A flutter and the angel was gone. Dean took Sam's boots off, tucking them under the edge of the bed and out of the way. He watched Sam for a moment, seeing his eyelids flutter then watching his eyes moved beneath them rapidly and he wondered what Sam was experiencing. Sam's mouth tightened briefly and his back arched like he was in pain. Breath whistled through Sam's nose flaring his nostrils. Dean put a hand to Sam's chest, soothing until he stilled. Dean heard his car pull up and he ran for the motel door, seeing it jump as it hit the curb, parked awkwardly in front of the door. Dean strode out and yanked open the door.

"Dude! I ever catch you even eyeballing my car again and I will kick your ass! Who taught you to drive anyhow, kids in bumper cars?"

"You wanted me to bring it here."

"Not drive it!" Dean sighed. "Forget it. I gotta get back in to Sammy. I should hand you your ass for messin' with my wheels, but…" Dean went to the trunk and opened the lid, reaching in for the duffel he'd discarded earlier. He grabbed the bag and went back to the room, shoving through the door when he heard Sam's hoarse cry.

**Sorry it's a little shorter than the first one. I've finally gotten it done, so updates...well, no promises there. I'm working for the rest of the week with 2 fifteen hour days at the weekend. Work is a must right now. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Have a few very, very special people to thank lately. Vonnie, you are incredible. Supernaturalsammy67, Sammygirl1963, Skag Trendy, Soncnica, and of course, my very best friend, my sis, Blue Peanut. You guys have been in my corner, supporting me so much it's like you're right here in the room with me and my husband. The rest of this fic is for you girls! So, enjoy the read my friends.**

**Chapter 3**

"AARAAHH!" Sam bellowed, sharp sounding and scared as he sat up on the bed. Dean dropped the duffel with a heavy _thunk_ and went to the bed, gripping Sam's heaving shoulders.

"Easy Sammy. Just a dream. You're safe. You're alright."

"D-" Sam croaked as terrified eyes finally lit on his brother. Sam swallowed thickly, his face paling. The sheet pooled at his waist was quickly pushed aside and he lurched from the bed, stumbling across the room and running into the door frame before clearing it and making it into the bathroom. Dean followed him in, grimacing as he heard Sam's knees smack hard off the ceramic tile. Sam retched, heaving, his back tense as he bent over the toilet, sweat drenched tee clinging to his back. Dean crossed the room and crouched behind Sam, the smell of sweat and sickness being forced aside as he concentrated on helping his brother.

Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's middle, keeping him upright when another heave wanted to send him face first into the porcelain in front of him. His other hand stroked soothingly down Sam's spine, his shirt molding to the flesh beneath as if it were another layer of skin. Dean felt the ridges of Sam's spine. Looking down at the back of Sam's neck Dean saw red welts, long and jagged, disappearing beneath Sam's soaked collar. The lines looked like newly healed scars, ragged scratches or tears sealed over with new, sensitive flesh.

Dean held Sam through another bout of vomiting and smoothed his hand down Sam's back, concentrating on the detail he felt beneath Sam's shirt. The ridges of the scarring got wider and thicker, twisting and overlapping as they worked their way down the middle of Sam's back until about mid way, where they branched out and Dean lost them. He moved when Sam did, helping his brother to his feet, steadying him on shaking legs. Sam reached out for the sink, whimpering when Dean tried to steer him back toward the bedroom.

"Please." He said, a little high pitched. Breathless. Dean let Sam lean over the waist high basin, watching as Sam cranked the cold water, his weight supported by Dean and a one handed white knuckled grip that looked tight enough to shatter the sink.. He let the water flow over a shaking hand before rinsing his mouth and splashing water over his drawn face. It dripped off his nose and chin back into the sink and ran down his neck to saturate his already sodden collar.

Sam sniffed as Dean watched the top of his bowed head in the mirror, a hand still gripping the arm that Sam used to hold himself up.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up. A new shirt might feel good, huh?"

Sam nodded once, another drop of water falling into the sink. Sam cranked the valve to off and stood straighter, letting Dean support him while he just concentrated on keeping one foot moving in front of the other .

Dean walked Sam across the room and back to the bed, easing him down. Sam remained sitting, one hand leaning on his knee. He pulled in a deep breath, releasing it and blinking as if he finally woke up a little bit. Dean handed him a soft gray tee shirt.

"Thanks." Sam said, his voice hollow, as he took the shirt, burying his fingers in the clean, soft material as if it was a treasured sight. Dean went to the other side of the bed, reaching for a warm can of Sprite that rested on the table inside the door, next to a full pizza box and a bucket of chicken that had shown up soon after Cas had left. He popped the tab and nearly dropped the can when he saw the lattice work of scarring across Sam's back, some small and white resembling lace, while others ran in thicker, curving bands that arched from the oldest scar, Jake's scar as Dean had come to think of it, up to Sam's shoulder blades to turn and drift downward to end at gathered points that nearly disappeared beneath Sam's waistband. A long, vicious scar ran the entire length of Sam's spine, from the base of his neck to his lower lumbar, the flesh still angry and sore looking. Sam straightened as he raised his arms to pull the shirt over his head and the scars seemed to move. To ripple. Like…

"Wings."

"What?" Sam asked, twisting to look back at Dean. Dean shook his head, and handed the can of Sprite over to Sam.

"Wings. Uh… got chicken. You feel like eating?"

Sam eased the can to his lips, swallowing a sip as if to see if his stomach would rebel. When it didn't he downed half the can of room temperature liquid.

"I can try. Where are we?"

"Cicero. Motel Six or something. Cas brought us here."

"Cicero?" Sam looked at Dean, standing from the bed. "You came to Lisa's." It wasn't a question. It was more like a statement, said in disbelief.

"I promised, didn't I?" Horror crossed Sam's features and his knees buckled. Dean leapt forward, catching Sam in time for him to hit the mattress more gently. "Oh god. I hurt her. I- I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Sam hunched in on himself, rocking slightly, face pale, all thought of trying to eat now gone. He continued to talk, his tone verging on hysterical, babbling, eyes roaming wildly over the floor in front of him.

"Hey! Hey, Sammy, stop it!" Dean crouched and caught Sam's shoulders, pushing him back so that Sam was forced to face him. "Y'didn't hurt her. She's okay. Just scared."

"…louder and it was like it was talking to me…in my head. Static. So loud it hurt. I was so f-freakin' scared…"

Dean's hands tightened on Sam's shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Sam!" Sam fell silent, breath loud in the room, eyes focusing on Dean. "I don't know what we're up against, but I do know one thing for sure. And that's that I am _not_ gonna let it get to you. I promise you."

"I'm not sure you can stop it." Sam murmured. He pulled away and stepped up to the window, the salt crystals forming a protective line catching the moonlight and glinting as he watched.

Dean walked up behind Sam and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly when Sam flinched. "Sorry."

"'S alright." Sam said quietly, his eyes remaining fixed on what was beyond the window.

"Sammy…" Dean started, trailing off when he realized he had no idea how to ask the question that was eating him alive.

"You wanna know if I remember anything from hell." Sam said, his voice hollow and haunted.

"Umm…yeah."

Sam turned from the window, walking slowly, almost as if he was in pain, to the bed where he eased down. Dean followed, sitting opposite. He watched Sam lean forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. Dean mimicked the position, his knuckles brushing Sam's forearm.

***Supernatural***

I am stretched to the point of breaking, my shoulders screaming as the tendons and muscle threaten to tear. He leans over me, his face a mask of blinding white light, feeling my eyes sear in their sockets, turning to ash as he blinds me, but I feel no pain. He doesn't let me, instead I feel myself released from the rack just to be flipped over and secured again, my arms pulled tight, legs spread and locked into place. My heart hammers in my chest as darkness surrounds me when the white light steps back. The heat is killed off and turned to ice and I feel a freeing hand on my back, chilling my flesh until it crystallizes, splitting my spine wide open. I feel intense pain, something being ripped from me. I vaguely picture a snake slithering through a straw, before my mind implodes, shuts down. Coarse laughter rings in my ears in the seconds before I go numb, deaf, gasping for air that I can't pull in, can't feel it fill my lungs. They won't let me die as they wrap the bundle of nerves that is my exposed spinal cord around my neck and pull it tight like a noose.

_God, PLEASE LET ME DIE!_

They snap their fingers and I'm whole again. Not blind, not deaf, not numb. They give me back my tongue and I scream.

***Supernatural***

"_Guh-huuuhhhhh…" _Sam hunched in on himself, breathing hard as his eyes cleared before filling with tears. Dean had moved from his seat, crouching in front of Sam, both hands gripping Sam's shoulders, thumbs digging into his collarbones, working over the ridges, trying and failing to ground his brother, through whatever he was reliving.

***Supernatural***

I watch him stare at the carpet, thinking if he concentrates on it any harder the fibers themselves will catch fire. His eyes lose focus, beginning to search the space he looks at. He's not seeing the carpet, or my feet. He's not even feeling my fingers digging into his shoulders, tryin' to break him from what he's seeing. His eyes move and his breathing ratchets up a notch, whistling out of his lungs as fast as it's pulled in.

"C'mon Sammy, come back."

"_Guh-huuuhhhhh…" _I catch him as he seems to implode, fingers digging in more than I meant to, to keep him from face planting on the threadbare carpet. His eyes focus finally, stop rolling around, and well with tears and my heart breaks, shatters…right along with my brother.

***Supernatural***

Sam pulled away, picking his feet up and curling up on the bed, looking about seven years old instead of the plus twenty he actually was. He rubbed his face against the sheet, moisture darkening the powder blue to cerulean. Dean straightened and lowered himself to Sam's bed, his back deliberately touching Sam's thighs. Sam looked at Dean, another tear running from the corner of his eye down over the bridge of his nose to join with one from the other eye, running down his temple to disappear.

"I remember…it was a lot longer than a couple days. It was…years. They never let me forget…time. Every day when they tore me…" Sam pulled in a ragged breath and released it, muddling the next word, "…apart, they never let me forget how long they were down there. Because it was my fault. When each year ended they would show me things…about you. Little league games with Ben…picnics with Lisa. They showed me that you forgot about me. Then they would laugh and do something else…"

"No. I would _never_ forget you. Sammy, you were on my mind every second. Besides, they lied, it was only five days. Just five days. What they showed you was all lies." Sam kept speaking over Dean's words.

"I would cry out for you…scream for you. I begged 'em. Just kill me. End it, I deserve it!"

Something hit Dean about what Sam had just said and he stopped, staring at his brother. "What'd they do, Sammy?" he asked quietly, his stomach beginning to churn.

"T-they tore out my spinal cord and strangled me with it. They wouldn't let me die!" Sam bared his teeth and sniffed, anger filtering through his features as he sat up and placed his sock feet on the carpet.

Dean leaned backwards, reaching for and pulling up Sam's tee shirt. "Did you know you have the scars?" He asked quietly.

Sam just nodded, another tear working free. "Sam, I know it's hard, but…what they did to you…it wouldn't leave scars like you have down the sides of your back. Did they say anything you can remember, do anything to you, that did that?

"Did what? All I can remember is them…celebrating the yearly anniversary of being in the pit by choking me with my own nervous system." Sam said bitterly. He quieted. "That's how I know it was five years. They were just about to start in on me for the fifth time. They were talkin' about it, like it was freakin' Mardi Gras."

"What happened after that, Sam? Did they…?" Dean choked, unable to finish his thought.

"Lucifer flipped me over on the rack, I remember him being so cold. Everywhere he touched it was like he froze me solid. Like if I would have fallen I would shatter. He started digging in and I screamed. My back burned so bad, he didn't let me go numb or…or, I dunno, I couldn't or something. Then there was this intense white light and flashes of…something…moving through it. Too fast to see. Then I snapped out of it and I was outside Lisa's. Don't remember much after that."

Dean's cell phone rang and he looked at it laying between the beds, ready to ignore it. Sam glanced at it and picked it up, handing it to his brother.

"It's Bobby."

Dean snapped the phone open. "Where the hell are you?"

"_Don't you take that tone with me."_ Bobby sighed. _"Look boy, I know you're broke over Sam, but somethin' weird is goin' on…"_

"Didn't you get my messages? Somethin' already happened Bobby. Sammy's out. He's sittin' right beside me. Somethin's after him. It's already attacked us once."

"_**What**__?" _Bobby made a strangled sound. _"Sammy's out? You're sure its…"_

"It's him. We're in Cicero. Super Six motel, room nineteen."

"_I'll be there by nightfall." _Bobby cut off the call with the roar of an engine that Dean caught in the background. He looked at Sam and smirked.

"He's gonna blow that old V8 wide open makin' it here by nightfall. Why don'cha get some sleep?"

"Can we go for a drive?"

"You wanna…"

Sam shrugged, "Kinda miss the car."

Dean smiled. "Yeah, okay." Dean grabbed his jacket, and keys, while Sam slowly slid his feet into his boots and reached for his jacket. Dean watched Sam move carefully. "You sure you're up to this? We can wait until later?"

"No. I wanna go."

"Well then, lets go." Dean gripped the back of Sam's neck gently and let him lead out the door. Dean moved ahead and opened the passenger door, waiting for Sam to ease himself against the leather. Dean shut the door and jogged around the front of the car, sliding behind the wheel.

"Where to?"

Sam shook his head, staring all around the interior of the car. His fingers worked over the leather of the seat by his legs. His fingers moved of their own accord, drifting toward the dial on the radio. He hesitated, looking shyly over at Dean.

Dean looked at Sam's hand, then at his face, smiling broadly. "Well, go ahead."

Sam flipped on the radio.

_Never cared for what they know_

_But I know…._

_Never opened myself this way _

_Life is ours we live it our way_

_Oh, these words I don't just say_

_And nothing else matters_

Sam looked at Dean and smiled as Dean hit the gas, pulling out of the motel lot with a squeal of rubber against the pavement. He sighed and leaned back against the seat reaching a long arm out to run his fingers over the edge of the dashboard. Sam's eyes roamed over the car while Dean glanced his way.

_He's finally home._ Dean thought, blinking back sudden moisture from his green eyes. Sam shifted in the seat, dropping his hand to his lap and stretching his long legs as far as the confines of the car would allow. Sam's head tipped back against the top of the seat and his hair, stirred by the breeze coming in Dean's open window, drifted down over his closed eyes before brushing back his forehead. He sighed and fully relaxed, the purr of the big V8 lulling him like nothing else.

***Supernatural***

_He's finally home. _I feel my eyes burn and no way in hell am I gonna cry while I'm goin' down the road. Not with him in the car. I have to see so nothin' happens to him. I blink and watch him from the corner of my…_damnit, they're still stinging_… and see him tip his head back, close his eyes.

I'll drive forever if it means he gets some rest.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: You guys rock and I am so glad you're enjoying this story. Thanks for the wonderful support and reviews. Just remember, my car is still for sale. It's gotta go. We're asking $9,000 US. I can explain why if you're interested.**

**Chapter 4**

I get in the car and Dean closes the door as the leather cushion beneath me molds to fit me like a glove, like I never left. I feel a smile play with the corners of my lips and I look at Dean, face finally breaking at the happiness mirrored on my brother's face. I reach for the radio, hesitating briefly until he nods my way. I flip the dial and turn it up, not loud but enough to be nice. What else is playing but something that I didn't realize until now that I missed, that is really the perfect music for our lives. He smiles again when my hands run over the painted dash, and I look all around the car, eyes fastening for a second to the back passenger door panel, and the little bit of green that stuck out of the ashtray that wouldn't quite close. _You always have watched our six, haven't you, soldier? Thanks for that._ _Thanks for helping me be strong enough to stop Lucifer from beating Dean to death with my hands._ I swivel my head back around and the rumble of the engine and the feel of home settles over me and I rest my head against the back of the seat like I've done more times than I can count. I feel my brother glancing at me while trying to keep his eyes on the road. I sleep.

***Supernatural***

Dean flipped the visor down as the sunset cast red streaks against the windshield and threatened to make the road invisible through the glare. Shadows cast across his eyes made him realize that he was getting tired. The soft music playing in the background, now Guns-N-Roses' _Patience,_ and the soft sound of his brother's relaxed breathing, the curves and straights of the road and the hum of the engine all filtered through his blood, seeped into his pores to make him more relaxed than he'd been in years. Everything felt right and somehow he knew he would do anything to hold onto this feeling.

He pulled back into the motel parking lot, easing the car straight into the space in front of their door. Bobby's tri-color Chevelle, the gray primer/rust/faded white SS striping letting him know that his old friend, his father figure, had made it to Cicero. The old tracker wasn't sitting in the car so Dean figured he was scouting the motel. Sam stirred on the seat, sitting up straight as he stretched his long limbs. He wiped at his eyes and looked out the windshield. "How long was I out?" he asked, his voice coarse from sleep.

"Little over five hours. Ya needed it."

"I think it was the first time in a long time that the nightmares haven't tried to tear me apart." Sam said quietly.

"We'll beat this, Sammy." Dean moved to open the door but Sam's reaching arm on his jacket sleeve, tightly clenched fingers in the material stopped him. His face was pale and he swallowed hard. "Sammy?"

"What I did to him…what if he hates me?"

"He doesn't hate ya Sammy. He's not capable of hating you."

"What if he doesn't want to see me?"

"You kiddin' me?" A gruff voice rang out from Sam's side of the car, not even muffled by the fact that the window was tightly wound up. Sam jumped, gripping Dean's jacket tighter.

"It's okay Sammy." Dean whispered just loud enough for Sam to hear. He nodded and reached for the door handle, watching as Bobby stepped out of the wide swinging path of the door. Sam stood and the hunter rounded the black panel and pulled Sam into his arms.

"O'course I wanna see ya! Damn, boy! Good t'have ya back!" Bobby squeezed Sam hard, huffing and breathing hard. He sniffed and stepped back, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes before he laid it back on the top of Sam's shoulder and squeezed gently.

"Hey Bobby." Sam said, skin still nearly transparent, but a smile on his face. "Good to see you too." Sam choked off when Bobby hauled him tight again.

"Let's get inside, huh?" Dean said, clapping both hunters on the arms. Bobby grabbed his pack that contained a salt gun, as Dean led the way to the door, using the key from his pocket to open it. He let Sam and Bobby through then shut it, locking it securely.

"Lemme lookatcha." Bobby said, dropping his pack. Spinning Sam around, hands on his arms and standing back, he looked Sam up and down, making him squirm. Bobby smiled and pulled Sam into his arms again. "Never thought I'd lay eyes on ya again." Bobby said, choking off abruptly.

"Bobby." Dean said, stepping up beside the hunter. "We need to talk, man." Bobby released Sam and they moved to the beds, sitting down. Sam sat slowly, stiffly, and both Bobby and Dean eyed him before Dean explained. "You remember that hand print I got?"

"Yeah."

"Sammy's got scars too. Worse." Dean motioned to Bobby to come around and he lifted Sam's shirt.

"Damn."

"Yeah."

Sam moaned, leaning forward. Dean dropped Sam's shirt tail and moved around. "Sammy?"

"Guh. D-Dean."

"What is it?" Dean watched as Sam's hand shot to his temple, the butt of his palm wedged tight and the pressure making the skin there turn white. "Sammy!"

Dean heard the buzz of the lights and saw the shadows in the room change, the lights getting brighter, static crackling filling the room audibly.

"It's….s'here. Aagh!" Bobby reached for the salt gun when the lights popped in the room, abruptly plunging them into the dimness that accompanied that time just after dusk when it's dark, but not pitch. He panned the gun around the room, stepping between Sam and _whatever._ Dean grabbed the demon killing knife and kept an arm draped around Sam's shoulders as his brother groaned in pain, rocking slightly.

Dean's eyes narrowed when white light appeared in the corner of the room, blinding him. The light blossomed and Bobby cried out, shielding his eyes with one hand and blindly firing with the other. The light seemed to waver. It flung out an arc of white hot light, seeming to grasp the older hunter. The light burgeoned in the room and Bobby was pushed backwards, flipping over the bed to the right of Dean, hitting the floor on the other side hard. He grunted and was still.

Dean stood, placing himself between the white light and Sam, his eyes streaming in the brightness. He raised the knife. "Come get it you sonuvabitch. I ain't lettin' you get him!"

The light moved forward, blinding in the confines of the room. It looked like something slightly more solid was looming over them in the middle of the light, taller than Sam would be if he were standing. Several inches taller than Dean at least. The light was brighter, more substantial in the middle, the glare somehow whiter. Dean flipped the knife in his hand quickly, throwing it dead center into the light. It stopped midair about a foot from the thing before it fell to the carpet, the superheated metal glowing white and melting the fibers of the synthetic rug with a sizzle. Sam stood, backing quickly away from the thing, his rapid breathing and pale features letting Dean know how distressed his brother was.

"Stay away from me!" Sam cried, the terrified sound assaulting Dean's ears and making him determined to stop this thing. Dean rushed the light, throwing punches. The form wavered as if it was receiving them, even though Dean felt his hand pass harmlessly through the light, leaving him off balance and having to compensate. The thing threw out a blinding arm and Dean felt himself flying.

"Ungh!" the cry was ripped from Dean's lips when his head and lower back impacted the bathroom door frame. His vision went black before he even hit the hard tile of the bathroom, laying half in, half out of the room.

"Dean! No!" Sam cried, starting for his brother when the light advanced on him, seeming to move in a blink and cut him off from his sibling. "NO! Don't touch me!" Sam's eyes widened, his pupils pinpricks in the blinding glow. Sam backed away raising his hands, and the figure rushed him. Sam felt agony.

***Supernatural***

I feel terror streak through my veins as I watch the knife I threw stop dead a foot before the mark I knew I should be able to hit. I watch the metal glow white hot and fall to the carpet, sinking slightly as it melted a hard spot in the poly fibers. The smell of burning nylon seeped into my nostrils and rage filtered through me when I heard my brother whimper in fear and pain. _Not gonna let that thing hurt him!_ I rush it, punching. It's the only thing I know to try. Shotguns don't work, knives don't work. I feel the thing stagger, then feel myself stagger as my fist passes through it, skin scorching and stinging like I touched a hot stove. I feel myself get picked up and thrown away like a piece of trash. I feel my back hit the wall painfully, then my head. Then…nothing but the sense that I failed Sammy horribly, and black.

***Supernatural***

_Oh god no! _ "Stay away from me!" I feel my heart hammering. The crackle of light filaments is filling my ears, seeping into my brain. It sounds like something is talking to me. Sinister whispers threatening to drive me insane and I'm so scared. God, help me I'm scared. It gets louder as it gets closer to me and I wanna rip my ears off. I back away, I can't help it. I wasn't as scared- out of control- of Lucifer, of Michael as I am this thing and I have no idea what it even is. All I know is I'm about ready to shit myself and I can't calm down. I watch, heart ready to burst from it's cage when the _thing_ throws m'brother, the only thing that's keeping me from running is the fact he's unconscious, out cold and helpless. I start towards him, crying out his name when I notice blood rolling in fat droplets down the side of his neck from somewhere at the base of his skull. It steps in front of me and thick, blinding white arms reach out. Hands that I can't distinguish touch me, lift me from the floor, and white hot fire rips through my soul.

**Leave a review! I know I've said it before, but I don't think you all realize how much comments and support mean to me right now and how therapeutic it is to write something like this.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews on this. The support has been amazing. I keep thinking how therapeutic it's been to write during this difficult time of my life, but the real therapy seems to be in the words you guys send me. Your thoughts mean so much to me. My husband's surgery is next week, which will allow him to start the fight to beat cancer. I've been mildly surprised I can string two words together with my mind going in ninety different directions. We have no insurance, and as you know we live in the wonderful states where no one gives a crap about the working people who support everyone else, so part of both of us is terrified at the cost. Part of us is determined to do whatever it takes to get through this all and still live and be happy, which is where the news we just received has come at such a beautiful time, even being this bombed out and jacked up. After nine tries in about seven years, we've FINALLY gotten the approval to get our dream home. He told me the other day, "We're getting me better, getting the house we love. Looks like the next step is a baby." After I got done crying and laughing all at once, I told him okay.**

**So, now you know why my notes have been the way they have lately. I thank you all for reading this and you've all really had no idea how much your reviews have kept me going, and wanting to not give up. Even those of you who don't sign in for me to thank in person. You now know just how important you are to those of us you review for. You just might want to take the time to sign in so others can let you know how much you mean to them too. Enjoy the last of this story and I hope there aren't too many holes. If there are, well, I hope you just forgive me for that.  
**

**Chapter 5**

Bobby woke with a gasp and a pained groan, memories and pain slamming home in the same second and robbing him of breath. He quickly sat up, head spinning and threatening to send him back to oblivion. The room was completely silent save for his rough breathing and what sounded like a pounding drum, which he soon realized was his own heart pounding in his ears. The motel room was dark, no lights from the neon sign outside, nothing in the room, not even the small red square that normally glowed on the special outlet by the bathroom sink. Bobby pushed himself to his feet, looking around and finally catching sight of a lump laying in the bathroom doorway. He made his way towards the form, the meager moonlight finally shining through when he shifted to the side enough for him to see short, golden brown hair and the dull glint of red blood.

"Dean!" Bobby made his way to the fallen hunter's side and crouched, his knees popping loud in the stillness. He put a finger to Dean's neck, finding the pulse thumping steadily beneath. "Dean, son, wake up." Bobby probed the back of Dean's head, finding a small gash that had almost stopped bleeding already. The younger hunter groaned and stirred, opening his eyes only to have them fall shut again.

"No ya don't. Open them eyes Dean." Dean complied, groaning.

"Bob-by? Wha- 'appen'd?"

"That thing came here. It attacked us again."

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked, becoming fully aware with a start. He sat up with a hiss of pain, stretching his back against the discomfort that seemed wedged at the base of his spine, feeling his kidneys seeming to thump in pain like a smashed finger.

"Dunno. Saw you first." Bobby said as he helped the younger hunter to unsteady feet. Dean looked around the small motel room, at first seeing nothing, then finally seeing a foot poking out from between the beds.

"Sammy!" Dean cried, running to his brother's side. Sam lay on his stomach, his twisted form laying tight at the base of the far bed, his face turned into the carpet. One arm was under his side, the other flung up as if it had been shielding his face. Dean touched his back, jerking his fingers away with a hiss, when he felt the heat there, like a piece of sun warmed metal. Sam's shirt, gray to begin with, crumbled and disintegrated beneath Dean's fingers, turning to what he quickly realized was ash. Sam's skin was warm but undamaged. "What the hell?"

Dean looked over his brother and glanced at Bobby when his old friend crouched at his side. Bobby brushed aside the residue, revealing the center of Sam's back. It was smooth save for the scar that instantly made him think of that horrible night where they lost the boy he'd come to love like a son. Dean and Bobby both reached out for Sam, gently rolling him away from the bed, getting his face out of the carpet. It was pale, lips nearly bloodless and with his heart hammering in his head and chest, once again Bobby reached for a pulse, not breathing until he found the weak thump beneath his calloused finger tips. He watched Sam's chest, covered by ash and tatters of a fragile shirt rise and fall.

"He's breathin'. Pulse is steady if a little weak."

Dean nodded and wordlessly began to move Sam's legs, Bobby getting him around the torso, jumping when the rest of the now cool shirt, either crumbled to dust or slid between his fingers to flutter soundlessly to the floor. They hefted Sam with twin groans of discomfort and put him on the bed, covering him to the chest with the blanket from the other one. Dean sat on the bed, fingers ghosting through Sam's hair before they went to the back of his own neck, coming away sticky. He wiped them on his jeans and glanced up in time to accept a glass of water and a damp face cloth from Bobby, washing the blood from his neck and gingerly probing the cut at the base of his skull.

"Don' think it needs stitches. I'll check again when we get some light." Bobby moved to his rucksack and pulled out a big rechargeable flashlight, sitting it on a chair at the table and aiming the flexible neck of the light so it illuminated the white ceiling, casting a dim glow over the room. Dean turned back to his brother, lifting Sam's head and dribbling a little of the water from the glass between his colorless lips. It trickled into his mouth and Sam's swallowing reflex kicked in, getting him the much needed fluids. Dean lowered his head gingerly back to the pillow.

"Good." Dean whispered. "Now, all you gotta do is wake up and be okay."

Bobby turned on the small clock radio in the room, tuning it into a local station just as the plates containing the black and white numbers flipped up to read 5:00 a.m. and the news was just beginning. Bobby looked at Dean and turned up the volume.

"_What experts are calling a 'freak atmospheric power surge' rocked the town of Cicero about two hours ago, destroying nearly every light bulb and fixture in the city. Replacements have already begun, starting with traffic lights and emergency vehicles. Until everything is functioning again, please be aware that the police force is directing traffic at all major intersections and at secondary ones, please take precautions. If you notice lights that are property of the city are not functioning by next week, call the number at the bottom of the screen to report them. A city wide collection day of your broken glass is being held on Wednesday. Please box or double bag the glass and put it curbside for pick up. Hardware stores and local car dealerships and automotive stores have begun ordering extra stock of vehicle headlights and both incandescent and fluorescent light bulbs. Again if you have questions or need to report damage to the electrical systems of your homes or vehicles or city property, please dial the number at the bottom of the screen. Operators are standing by."_

"Two hours ago. Bobby, what the hell happened?"

"Wish I knew, boy. If it wanted Sam, it didn't take him. Healed his scars so it don't even look like it hurt 'im."

"Yeah, but God knows what it screwed with in his head." Dean said quietly, reaching out to brush a finger over the ridge of Sam's brow. He jumped when his cell phone rang, quickly standing from the bed so he didn't disturb Sam with the musical tone. He flipped the device open.

"Lisa, you okay? Is Ben okay?"

"_Are we okay? I should be asking you! Everything here is blacked out Dean. What happened? Did you find Sam? Are you okay?"_

"We're okay. We're at a motel at the edge of town. Lis, something happened and Sammy's unconscious again. It was…whatever the hell popped the lights all across town. It came after Sam and we're not sure what it did…"

"_Is he gonna be okay? Do you need anything?"_

"No….no. It looks like a waiting game now. Let him wake up and find out how bad it messed with his head."

"_Dean, I tried to tell you before he ran off and you went after him. I think that thing is what he was afraid of when he first woke up. It was weird and very scary, but it was like the wall started glowing and the light bulbs popped in the guest room, then it was like this blob of light walked right through the wallpaper. He jumped awake and grabbed me, backing away from it. He didn't mean to hold me so tight. I could feel him shaking…so bad…he was _terrified_ of that thing Dean. What was it?"_

"I have no idea, Lis."

"_Are you sure you don't need me to bring anything to you? Some weirdo in a trench coat came and got your car. He said you were fine and you'd asked for it. It was so bizarre. I automatically trusted him. Maybe I should go for therapy or something."_

"No, Lisa. That's Cas. If he ever so much looks at my car again, I'll kill him, but he's okay. You can trust him. Look, I gotta go. Try to figure out what the hell just happened. Listen to the news, okay? And stay home for the next couple days. The whole town is pretty much blacked out and the roads are gonna be dangerous. We'll talk soon. Be careful."

"_I will. You too." _Dean ended the call and looked down at his brother only to jump at the brief flutter of wings in the room.

"Cas."

"Dean. I sense that being here again. Are you alright?"

"I've got the headache from hell and your timing sucks but I guess we're okay. Do you have any idea at all what the hell that thing is, and why it came after Sam… AGAIN?"

"I don't know."

"Gee, what a surprise. Some help you are, Cas. Look at his back. He had scars there. Looked like freakin' wings. And deep red welts where he told me…something awful he remembered those sonsabitches doin' to him in hell. S'all gone. Everything but Jake's scar."

Cas went to the bed and reached for Sam one handed, about to roll him over. Dean smacked his hand away and instead pulled the cover back to Sam's waist, reaching for the right side of Sam's abs, just beneath where his elbow rested. He tickled Sam briefly, who huffed in his sleep and shifted onto his right side to get away from the annoyance of being tickled, exposing his back to Castiel. The angel placed a hand on the center of Sam's spine and closed his eyes briefly. Seconds later he jerked away and spun from Sam's side, staggering to the table where he gripped the back of a chair hard enough to split the wood. Dean covered Sam to his shoulder and turned to face the angel.

"What didja see?" Bobby questioned the angel.

"A seraphim."

"A what?" Dean and Bobby echoed.

"Seraphim. An angel of the highest order. One that has many faces. I caught glimpses of Mary's countenance, as well as your father's and Jessica's. Also the blank face, simply white light, that it allows mortals to see to instill fear. Sam couldn't understand what was going on when he saw four faces, three of people he loved, overlapping with something that caused terror in him. It came to Sam at the request of our father. To heal him from the memories…the experience of hell."

"Bang up job it did there! What'd it do, have to freakin' torture him to heal him?"

"You don't understand. Your experience of hell was…what's the word you use…cake?… compared to what Sam went through. The scars were not only on his body, they were burned into his soul. The only way for him to be healed was for the seraphim to burn away that part of his soul. Turn it to dust. He won't remember any of his experience, probably from Detroit until now. Possibly from Ilchester, Maryland and the convent. Ever. I suggest, if you wish to spare him the torment of mentioning something he cannot possibly remember or assimilate, that you never mention his fall into the pit or the abbreviated apocalypse and it's aftermath."

Dean's hand moved over his face, sounding like sandpaper when it drifted over his stubble. "What the hell am I supposed to tell him when he wakes up with no memories of the last six days?"

"Think of this, Dean. Is not remembering six days better than remembering five years of horrific torture in the inner circle of hell?" The angel disappeared with a rustle of tan canvas.

"You'll think o' somethin' Dean."

"I guess I have to."

***Supernatural***

Dean lifted the washcloth off of Sam's forehead, finally pleased with the results. Sam was only running a low grade fever, more importantly he was clean, something that would lead to less questions about the last week of his life. The sun was beginning to streak the sky outside with crimson and oranges and even giving over to tinges of blue and purplish black as it set on yet another day.

Bobby rested in the other bed, fallen asleep a couple hours after the incident with the Seraphim and the information from Castiel, with a gruff "I ain't got no concussion, so ya wake me before Sam wakes an' I'll tan yer backside!" This came after two hours of telling, ordering and finally begging Dean himself to use the bed and receiving no satisfying results. Dean would sleep when he _knew_ Sam was okay.

***Supernatural***

I see Sammy's eyes start to move beneath their lids, hear his breathing change just a little. I've known from the time that kid was a baby, from the day mom and dad brought him home, that was the biggest clue to him waking up from a nap. I zero in on those little movements that make me see how close he is to digging himself out from under the layers and I know the second his brain starts to comprehend little noises around him, one less layer holding him down.

"Wakey-wakey, princess."

Sam's blue greens open and he's lookin' at me. First time there's no pain, no sadness, no fear-scratch that- stark raving terror. Just a little bewilderment in those depths. A few questions and they start with one that I know he'd say.

"Dean?" His voice a little hoarse. He doesn't know that the last thing he did before now is scream like I NEVER want to hear him scream again. Granted this time I didn't hear it, but last time…_nope. Never again. Not gonna happen._ He stretches on the bed, feet sliding off the end of it- freakin' Sasquatch- hands banging into the wall above the headboard and then he's pushin' himself up on his elbows. I stand from the chair I somehow managed to steal from the table and tuck between the beds after shoving the one closest to the door that much closer. But that's okay, 'cos I'm not leavin' until he's ready anyhow.

***Supernatural***

"Yeah. Hey, don' move too much. You've been asleep for a while."

"Wha' 'appened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Sam appeared to think for a second, a look of puzzlement crossing his features. "Um, Ilchester. The convent. Oh, god, I'm sorry Dean. I killed Lilith and Ruby was telling me that I did it, that I broke the last seal. I tried to kill her and my head hurt so bad. I…" Sam fell silent for a second. "That's it." Sam sat up, his eyes brimming with moisture. He shoved his hands into his hair and tugged. "That's all I remember. What happened? The cage, it was gonna open. What the hell happened Dean?"

Dean stayed silent for a moment, Sam staring hard at him. "Cage didn't open. I dunno, there was this flash of light and Lilith's body was gone, the opening was gone. Nothin' happened. Just the light. Ol' Luci never showed. You were unconscious, so I grabbed ya and booked."

"How long, Dean?" Sam asked quietly.

"'Bout a week. You were really beginnin' to scare me, so I called Bobby here." Dean pointed to the still snoozing hunter. "Speakin' of which, he wanted me to rattle his chain when you woke up since it looked like you were close." Dean leaned across the bed and smacked Bobby with his own Trucker's cap, which he had taken off and laid on the bedside stand. He woke abruptly, his last snore cut off mid inhale, rattling in the room like a chainsaw.

"What?" Bobby's head swiveled around and his eyes lit on Sam, the grizzled hunter's bearded face breaking into a grin. "Sammy? You feelin' alright, kid?"

Dean helped Sam to lean back against the headboard, watching him squirm a bit before he got comfortable.

"Yeah. I have questions, but yeah."

"What questions, Sam?" Bobby asked, a little afraid that the boy suspected something. He met Dean's eyes, his shadowed beneath his trucker cap. Then his gaze shifted back to Sam waiting for him to speak.

"Where are we for starters?"

"Cicero. Like I said, I grabbed you and booked. Jus' kept driving. Bobby met us half way and this was half way."

"And Ruby?"

"The bitch got what she had comin' for gettin' between us."

"I'm sorry, Dean." Sam said, looking at the hands he had lowered to his lap.

"Don't be. Just be okay. You scared the hell outta me when I found ya, and you wouldn't wake up."

"I'm okay." Sam smiled. "I have to piss, but I'm okay."

"Too much info, bitch."

Sam laughed, the sound wonderful to Dean's ear, something he thought he'd never hear again. "Jerk."

***Supernatural***

I watch my brother. He answers my questions, but I didn't miss the look he shared with Bobby. He's guarding me from something. I can't fathom what, but if it means I have my big brother back, that everything is finally back to the way it was before hell, before Ruby, before I knew I had demon blood, before Jake's scar, then I'll take it. Every second I can get. I don't wanna know the real answers to my questions then. I get the feeling that everything would change.

I shake my head and smile at my brother's heartfelt smile, at our banter that I've missed so much, at the smile on the old man's face. The hug he gives me seems emotional on more levels than it should be for just a close call and again I'm troubled by a sense of déjà vu. I head for the bathroom, relieving myself. The sink looks inviting, and oddly, slightly familiar. I run cold water and wash my hands, then splash my face. Looking up, my eyes catch sight of my face in the mirror. _White light, flashes of heat and pain. Something snaking around my neck. Freezing cold. As hot as flying into the sun. Sinister laughs. Breath ripped from me, unable to get back. A loud snap and I'm whole again. _I jump like the snap was bones in my back realigning uncontrollably. I blink and it's gone, I'm left trying to catch my breath, feeling sick. My eyes drift to the light bulb in the fixture, seeing the upturned globe with the heads of wheat pattern in the frosted glass band, just the center tube and broken filament of the bulb still upright. Once clear shards of glass lying around the bottom of the fixture looking like they'd been smoked. Static crackling, like the hum of electricity, with too high voltage, slips between my ears. I shake my head to clear it and walk out of the bathroom, smiling when Dean smiles. I get the feeling that I really have no idea how good it is to have my brother back.

**Thanks again for reading. **


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